Shiver
by thggirl
Summary: Gale eventually did it. He persuaded Katniss to marry him, but a few days before the marriage she's struck with reluctance when an anonymous man walks into her life and strikes a strange deal with her that is awfully tough to refuse. Now all she can seem to focus on is tracking him down.
1. Chapter 1

**I'm starting a new fanfiction because I just can't seem to stop flowing with ideas for them. This one is more of a fluffy romance type unlike Running was, I think you Everlark shipping hopeless romantics will like it. The story is named after the song mentioned below.**

**Side note: This is set in Panem. Prim and Peeta were never reaped and therefore Katniss never had any reason to volunteer. She is now 18 and has finished her last reaping.**

**Merry Christmas, I'll try to update soon if you guys like it. xx :***

_And it's you I see but you don't see me_  
><em>And it's you I hear so loud and so clear<em>  
><em>I sing it loud and clear<em>  
><em>And I'll always be waiting for you.<em>  
><em><strong>~Shiver, Coldplay<strong>_

"Gale, we don't need a cake."

He knows just like I do that bakery wedding cakes are so costly, it feels a bit selfish to spend the money from hunting and gathering so stupidly on sweets. Especially when our siblings don't have enough nourishment and are twig thin in result. I made it my endeavor, my mission, the most significant thing in my life when I was just twelve; Prim's health. Everything else is on the sidelines, for as long as I live she will be my main priority. That will never be changed or swayed.

"Katniss we deserve at least one simple luxury, the capitol has taken so many from us, we should at least have this. We're getting married I want to do this right."

I shake my head at him, when he's not calling me by _Catnip _that's how I know he's serious. This is so stupid he knows better. Of course he wants some extravagant cake for the wedding, it'd be a blow to his ego for people to think of him as cheap. That's the problem though, he's not thinking further than himself at the moment.

"Think about your brothers, and Posy, think about Prim, they'd make much better use of the money. You're right it is a luxury, but nothing more. It's not a necessity for the Seam, only the Merchants. What about Vick Gale, his shoes have been reduced to nothing but torn rags!"

He rubs the bridge of his eyes as if are augment has placed much fatigue upon him. It irks me in a bad way.

"Katniss, I've noticed and I've got it covered, I'll give him Rory's outgrown shoes. This isn't some small thing, we're getting married. You don't have to worry yourself about money anymore we're doing good. It's spring. Your bringing in game and everything is going well in the mines, we make enough and we can afford this."

That's the one thing about us. We're so alike that we clash, both of us are like to blunt blades we're so stubborn that we just push and push at each other never moving or relenting. But that flame that causes us to argue makes us work, when we go hunting all our moves and thoughts and decisions match, like we're of the same body.

I know that if I don't let him get this cake he'll always throw it back in my face and remind of it. He wants it to be some big grand seam wedding that screams of how well he takes care of his family. Of course he's usually not some ego driven guy but everyone has a little streak of pride that they base their decisions on. His is just different than mine, while he wants the respect of others and the label of high class seam guy whose not like the rest I just don't want to be looked upon as a weakling that could be picked off so easily.

It's hopeless, I know, but I make one more weak attempt to dissuade him. The cake isn't something I'm so strongly against it's just the money pumped into such things that could be spent elsewhere. "Gale, are you sure that's what you want to spend your money on?"

"Of course, and it's not my money, it's _our _money," his face softens, "that's why I asked you about it."

My mind flickers to Prim, I see her pressed in the bakery window and the bright cakes aligning the glass that she'd grew up lusting to taste. And all at once I agree.

"Okay." I swallow the lump in my throat. "We can spend _our _money on this."

He smiles, finally, and pulls me in by the waist to kiss him in the living room of my house. It's fleeting, lasting a mere few seconds and it just feels like my lips being tickled and his hand pressing into my middle.

I scowl at him, he's always been the first to kiss me. "Prim could've walked in on that."

He shakes his head at me. "She knows we're getting married. Knowing _her _she wouldn't mind."

"Whatever," I exhale a sigh. He's right and he knows it, Prim would've been thrilled to walk in on that.

"She's fourteen, in highschool, loosen up the reins. Anyways, I need to go, it's Sunday and I need to hunt."

I'm a little surprised when he doesn't ask me to come along like he always seems to.

"What about the cake?" I ask, but I think I already know the answer, Gale doesn't seem like the kind to step into a bakery.

"I thought that's something you'd do, you pick it out." He fishes through the pockets of his thread-worn trousers, and outstretches his hand to me. "Here."

I take it and put it in the pocket of my pants. "I'll see you soon then."

"Alright, see you."

He strides through the door and the whole house is enclosed in silence afterwards. It's hard to think that once I marry him I'll move a few houses further into the seam and away from this one. I've lived here my whole life. It's bright out today but the house is still dark, the only light that comes in is through a shabby coal dust stained window, little fuzzy specks of dust swirl in havoc through the illuminated parts of the house. Buttercup sits in the sun his tail swishing back and forth as he watches me with those ugly eyes that hold a cat-like glare.

Moving to the small space I call my own I put the money under my pillow, there's hardly any break ins in twelve because it's punishable by death but I'd rather not tempt anyone passing by outside. I remember a time when I was desperate enough to steal, it was a rainy day when I was twelve and had nothing but the battered rags on my back.

_Soon_, I realize, I'll live with Gale and no longer share this small bed pushed back to back with Prim, my mothers bed will no longer be just a few feet away. The idea of sleeping somewhere else is so strange and foreign that it's like being submerged in the lake inside the woods during late fall, before everything freezes over.

I push the tension in my throat down with a heavy gulp and head to the small dark kitchen and grab the largest pot we own. It's filled near the brim with water and then it's placed on the burner to heat.

A little before it boils I remove it and carry it to the iron tub nestled in a corner of the house and pour it in. I consider using one of my mother's bars of soap she kept from her merchant days, but decide against it. I sink into the warmth of the water, it laps against the mid point of my leg. From the rim of the tub I pick up a vial of grinded _soapwort_ plant, and fill my palm with it. It's a ugly yellow-brown color but it smells like cloves and works like the cheap soap you can buy from the hob. If more people were brave enough to enter the woods and had the survival knowledge I do they could make their own soap for free.

That's why I finally said yes to Gale. We have just the right knowledge for survival, the marriage, I decided, would be better for our families.

I rub myself down in the oil and sink each part of me underwater one at a time, the tub is to small to go underwater all at once and I don't have enough water to cover myself entirely. Finally when I finish I rub the droplets of water from my eyes with the back of my soaked hands. The water around me has turned frothy with the homemade soap.

I dry myself with the one sturdy towel that is shared by, Prim, mom, and I. Afterwards I wrap my chest in plastic, something I'd usually not do. My reaping dress is pulled out, I clothe myself in it. It fits a bit tight but albeit not in a noticeable manner. When I was twelve it was too loose and slipped off my bony shoulders, but I wore it anyway because the capitol was watching us, taking entertainment in our terror. I'm relieved to have had my last reaping finished but I worry so constantly about Prim. And Gale's siblings, we try our best to shield them from the terrible world in which we live.

I unknot my hair with the tips of my fingers and then proceed to braid it.

If you're from the seam and you're going to order something from the merchant side of town it's best to present yourself in the best way possible. If not, you'll be looked at like a pig trying to be a sheep. Especially if you're going to the bakery, I have seen and heard of Mrs. Mellark and if I encounter her I need to look the part of somewhat wealthy. They'll always pick out a seam from a merchant though, our dark hair gives us away. But as long as we're buying and making them money they'll leave us alone. Merchant's are the people Gale and I can't stand the most, they have such money compared to us, they can bathe in it, they waste it on frivolous things and do the things we never could afford.

I remember watching blue eyed boys buying grey eyed seam girls for a night in highschool. It was so sickening to watch, my stomach would twist in knots and that's when I remember feeling such an intense disliking for the rich. At thirteen I'd pulled out all the sugarcoating you hear growing up and revealed life for what it really is.

That's why I was reluctant to buy a cake for my own wedding, I had my poor starving neighbors in mind but I then thought of Prim and her innocence that she remains smothered in even at fifteen.

In minutes the bakery is in sight, it's not hard locating it considering the fact that I usually trade squirrels with Mr. Mellark today. But this is different, I always knock on the back door but today I will walk through the front. I usually come in with dark clothing and a leather jacket slipping into the merchant side like a shadow but today I am dressed like one of them, plus I'm buying something that's not of necessity.

My form is reflected in the shiny cake displaying windows as I stroll past them, I don't look like myself. Finally I reach the door, it glass, outlined with black trim and a polished handle.

I'm so out of place here. I step in slowly, and a bell chimes as the door opens, my dress swishes between both legs as I make way toward the counter where no one has came out to yet. I feel so exposed wearing a dress, I'm so used to trousers that I just feel naked having no fabric tightly fitted to my legs for once. I don't like it. "I'll be out in a minute," I hear a voice from another room drone, and I hear a small voice telling me I can change my mind.

While waiting I smooth down my dress, that's when I realize I have cleavage showing, the plastic wrap has managed to push up my breast and make them look better than they actually are. I pull up the dress and awkwardly shift but it can't hurt to appear rounder than I actually am.

As predicted the merchant women are heavenly compared to us from the seam, they smell of rose water and sweet smelling fragrance, they are clean and free from soot and they're hips are wide and their chests are full. It's very seldom a boy from the seam snags one but that doesn't mean they don't try, my father was one of the lucky, he caught one and she became his wife.

A door opens from behind the counter and a stocky man pops out. My breath catches in my throat and a shiver sweeps down my spine. Of all people who work here it had to be _him._

I'm shocked and flustered and lost for words. I'd thought he moved out to get away from his mother, but obviously not.

Before me is the boy with the bread, he saved Prim when I was at my weakest time, he revived me, and for that I can never repay him. His eyes widen like a rabbits does when you notch an arrow a second before you release it. I'm hopelessly out of sorts.

I'd never spoken to him, at least not directly, but I kept tabs on him. I spent years trying to thank him and wondering why he took a beating for me.

His cheeks are red like they're every time I see him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games. **

_I had a dream the other night, about how we only get one life,_

_~Something I need_, **_One Republic _**

"You're not trading squirrels today are you, Katniss?" he asks leaning over the counter as his turquoise eyes rake up and down my body. I'm filled with nervousness instantly, being around him has always filled me with uncertainty and unleashed a struggle within my mind. When I came in today I'd thought it'd be his dad to greet me since he's always the one to collect my squirrels every Sunday.

I've spent years trying to weave a life around Peeta but somehow I encounter him more than I should. It's not because he's a bad person but because he makes me feel naked and stripped of my mask. He knows that I wasn't always doing well.

I look up and he wears a eye creasing smile even though his hair is unruly and matted to his forehead and he seems to have every reason to be unhappy.

I feel my chest constrict a little, I hadn't seen him in a few months, since school ended.

"Oh no, Peeta. I'm here to order a cake."

"Alright," he pipes seeming slightly shocked, "let's get to it." Strange is the only way to describe standing in the front of the bakery as a customer. I worry that Mrs. Mellark could barrel around the corner at any moment, she's prideful and it's possible she'd usher me out telling me that they do not business with my kind. But I am here not for myself, I am here for Prim and as a favor to Gale. He puts up with me after spending his days at the mines, and that's something I don't always do in return. Maybe he senses my hesitation, and that I do not know where to begin because he gives me a knowing look or maybe a look of realization and he speaks again with his lips curved upward. "What kind of cake are you looking for is it for a special occasion?" he leans forward even more with his eyes glued to me as if I fascinated him, yet I can't find anything remarkable about myself. This must be a merchant thing, they must want to make their customers feel special so they will say good things and come back.

When I reply it is nothing but straightforward, wasting no time. "I am looking for a wedding cake."

It'a instantaneous, his lips falling from their high perch, him leaning away from me. I can't even begin to fathom how he went from the happy baker to the no-nonsense boy with somber eyes within a moment, the only experience I can compare it to was when I shot a buck through the eye and its mate, a doe saw, she froze up wide eyed, a reaction like his. He replies, a strong indifferent tone undertaking his light one. "Wow, you're the last girl I'd expect to get married."

I shrug but I don't provide him with any information, he needs to keep his nose out of it. And I will be the last to the fuel a rumor featuring myself. I remember when Gale told our families about our fresh engagement I had acted excited in front of them for the sake of us, but afterwards I had slammed him against a tree and hissed at him claiming he said too much too fast. He frowned and asked why I wasn't thrilled about getting married, but he didn't understand, it made me feel as if I had been robbed of something personal.

Peeta seems to understand right off the bat that I will say nothing more.

"Well, what flavor were you thinking?"

His hand dives into the pocket of his apron and a notepad materializes, he clicks the back-end of a pen and balances it in his fingers.

Any other customer would know what they have, but coming from the seam I do not. I can only think of a flavor called vanilla, after school on our walk home there was a merchant girl from Prim's class shoving greedy handfuls of cupcake into past her lips and my little sister too kind and shielded to know better bounced right up to her and asked, 'what flavor is that Rosemary?' The girl kindly replied, Primrose looks too much like a merchant to be judged as a seam most of the time.

Peeta realizes this a moment after he's said it, his eyes widen and soften, "I'll list the flavors out to you."

"Okay, thanks." I fold my hands and tuck them together on the counter in front me. He moves with an air of certainty, it's very simple to tell that he knows his way around, and he should, I remember his mom making him work at the tender age of 12. Without a word he vanishes behind a door leading to the back, there's the sound of his father's voice mingling with his but the what they speak of is indistinguishable above the stillness of the bakery. I had waited for the the last customer to leave before I came in, and now, as I look out the window I see night begin to etch its features into the sky.

Peeta returns, the tips of his ears pink as he clutching a small white box of Styrofoam about a minute later, he places them on the counter before me. "These are samples we keep them in hand for occasions like this," he explains before opening the lid and revealing what's inside, an array of miniature cupcakes. They're so sweet the fresh scent invades your nose in an instant, and each are different from one another. There's about six different kinds, one is yellow underneath the icing. I heat up realizing that I can't even put a name to what it is, I know it is called batter before it's cooked but after does that title remain? I decide to steer clear of that whatever the dough beneath the icing is, I don't want to present myself as stupid, when I already am looked at as poor.

I look at him, with narrowed eyes, my mind is twisted into a knot, a sample, does he seriously expect me to try these neatly made up cakes free? Samples, in the seam are unheard of, still, they aren't huge in the merchant side either. When I was young and Prim was just a newborn the baker would give me cookies when my father came in to trade, but that is the only free thing I can remember receiving. Well, now that I think of it that wasn't the only thing, there was the dense hearty bread with raisins and nuts, the outsides of it were hardly burnt yet the baker's wife harshly demanded it was no good and deemed that it was only fit for the pigs.

I look up trying to keep my face impassive, I really should have said my thanks years ago when he remembered the event clearly, then I wouldn't be here feeling guilty over something of the past. My mouth feels dry and I try to recall the last time I drank. I begin to wonder if I should just pick the vanilla cake and deny the offer of samples and leave.

But just as the thought enters my mind strings of his voice ring into my ears.

"The most commonly bought is vanilla, you can't really make a wrong choice with that one." His pointed finger directs me to one with a yellow-ish base topped with creamy white waves of frosting. "Usually we cover it with cream cheese icing, which is personally one of my favorites but you can choose any kind of icing you want and it will go well." The baker moves to the next in the box, "chocolate is quite rich and sweet but most like it, this is also very commonly bought."

But before he can continue listing off each beautifully frosted miniature cake I interrupt him very suddenly with the thought that has been smothered into all the corners of my mind since he brought them out. "These can't be samples."

Peeta seems taken a bit back by remark but none the less replies with just reasoning. "Of course they're samples. Take them, I insist, I don't want you the wrong cake for your," he falters, "for your wedding." He says the final word in a slow strangled voice, perhaps he's choked on his own spit. I hate that he's mentioned the wedding again but I am too consumed the oddness of the free offer to worry about setting him straight.

"No," I protest, I look at the half dozen mini cupcakes and I see Prim cradling them in her hands after dinner, frosting specked in the corner of her mouth. I give a vehement shake of my head. "I will pay you for this in squirrels. It's only fair."

His frown deepens. "It's a favor, I don't expect anything in return."

My mind flickers to the graying woman who helps run the bakery, she wouldn't approve of this exchange at all. Peeta would take the blame and I would accept more debt.

I pick my fingers back from the counter and fold my arms. I feel the money pressed into the breast pocket of my dress. "I could pay you in cash if you prefer it." And then I think something that makes sense, sure I won't get a array of flavors for Prim but she doesn't have to know and besides, she'll have the whole wedding cake to pick off of. "It's fine, I'll pass on your offer, I'll just pick a flavor and we can go with that."

"Katniss," he sighs with a mirthless laugh, overall he seems just sad. "It's a gift, just a sample because you've never tried any and don't know the difference. You're very stubborn but-" he closes the lid and shoves them forward to me. "I'm stubborn too and I won't take no for an answer."

I gape at him. Peeta's right, he is stubborn in a irritating yet admirable way.

"I can't." I deny his offer again and reach out to push the box back but all at once he seizes my hands in his own.

"You can," his eyes bore into mine, unrelenting, and I wish I hadn't looked at his eyes because they are soulful and pleading for me to knock my hesitancy off. His hands lie over mine, I've never been so startled in my life, they're warm and large. I've had Gale grab my hand but it's not the same.

"Thank you." I finally give up. Maybe he sees that my gratitude is for more than the cupcakes but I doubt it.

"No trouble at all, come back and let me know when you decide."

I nod.

For dinner we eat a stew Hazel makes from the rabbit Gale brought in. While we're eating he grabs my hand under the table but I shake it off, I don't feel like touching him but he doesn't seem to know it.

We cut the cupcakes in half, we split three between my family and three for Gale's not only since he is the one coming up with the payment for the official cake but because we always share our fortunes. Of course he isn't happy about the cupcakes, we have a brief argument about it. He says it's charity, but I protest and explain that I secretly plan to pay back Peeta with squirrel.

And then Gale says the most absurd thing I've ever heard from his mouth in the years I've known him. "I saw the way he looked at you in high school, I always suspected it, he has a thing for you Katniss."

"You're ridiculous." I scoff at him in total disbelief and walk away immediately ending the bickering. The thought is so preposterous and unrealistic that I don't even bother contemplating or dwelling upon it.

When Prim's eyes widen at her first bite and that's when I'm assured that everything was worth it.

...

...

...

**It's 3:10 here and I have to wake up early so I should make this brief.**

**Nothing to say other than I love you guys, and I'm grateful some of you came back to read my new story. I can't wait to continue this. :***


	3. Chapter 3

**Here's chapter 3 my loves, it's about 2,500 words and it's where the story picks up. Enjoy!**

_Little ghost, you are listening,_  
><em>Unlike most you don't miss a thing,<em>  
><em>You see the truth,<em>  
><em>I walk the halls invisibly,<em>  
><em>I climb the walls, no one sees me,<em>  
><em>No one but you.<em>

_~Strange Birds, __**Birdy**_

Two days after, when I finally do go to order the cake it is dreary and rainy. Black water sloshes up on my boots and the ankles of my nicest trousers which don't stand a chance against the coal dust. Then again, everything I own has stains created by the hand prints of coal dust, it is just the way we live. There's those voices in my head again clashing and running in circles. One is eager to return to the bakery and the other is saying to pay him back for the cupcakes and to return home and dissuade Gale from wanting a cake. They both agree on one thing though; getting Prim sample cupcakes wasn't a terrible thing.

Squirrels are in my bag this time. Five; they were so starved I think striking them through the eye was a favor done unto them. On my way there I pass a few prying eyes, there's the girl's cleaning themselves up to go stand in line on Cray's doorstep. It saddens me in the worst way, like anyone with empathy I feel for them, if they weren't so afraid of the woods they'd probably be like me. The capital wants fear labeled as a synonym of the woods, and with success, it is what have been instilled in their minds over time. They don't realize that the capital and all connected to it are the only thing they should be weary of.

As I approach the bakery I cross to the back door away from the eyes of the curious and give a steady knock, a familiar face appears, Mr. Mellark, a man I know how to converse easily with. "I have 5 squirrels, they're very frail," I unzip my bag and pull out the meat wrapped in parchment paper from the hob.

"Thank you," he says after I place them in his hands, "I will go get you some bread, they're fresh." He smiles and gives a wink before spinning on his heel. Before he can get away I call out to him and he looks at me befuddled.

"Actually, your son already paid me for those." I zip my bag up and he protests seemingly questioning the whole matter. "Really, he did, don't worry about it." Grasping my bag I shake the strap a little further up my shoulder.

"Okay," he speaks slowly, finally accepting freely. "Well, thank you for coming by, have a good evening."

"No problem. Enjoy your night and your squirrels as well." I nod to him before I turn to leave, the sky is pearly grey now, clouds roll in like dark shadows, soon, I know, the rain will begin again and everyone in its path will be drenched.

Suddenly I hear his voice again. "Oh and Katniss." I shift my body to face the back door of the building. "Congratulations on getting through your last reaping, I'm glad you didn't get picked."

For just a moment I stand there a few steps from the bakery contemplating how to reply, secret-like silence consumes the air. Finally I land on a polite set of word that simply cannot fail me. "Thank you, I'm glad to have finished." I choose to say no more in case he is loyal to the capital, although I seriously doubt he is. I take a solid step away and continue to the front to tell Peeta of the choice I had made.

To my dismay, his words awaken my worry about Prim and the soon to come reaping of the following year.

I enter the bakery to find a merchant woman selecting pastries from the display, she looks about my mother's age but much healthier. I shuffle in line and watch, Peeta fills the air with chatter as he swiftly moves to adorn the box with golden baked goods and bright sweets. I press my heel into the floor as I listen to the warmth of his voice carry on, outside of Gale, there are no other men I hear speak besides the ones I trade with. "These are usually more popular than the cheese buns but I think I prefer the latter-" I decide I like his tone. It wouldn't scare game away if he stepped into the woods but judging by the strange gait he has, however, I think his feet would make an awful lot of noise.

Eventually, maybe a minute later, she pays and moves aside. Peeta's eyes trail behind her and finally land on me, and he beams. "Hi Katniss, could you decide?"

I shift forward and keep my palms firmly at my thighs. "I think I'm going with the vanilla." I made the decision based on my uncertainty, personally liked the nibble of red velvet cake I had. It's not about me our even Prim, this is Gale's cake and I have no idea what he wants.

Peeta seems slightly surprised by conclusion I've come to, his eyebrows lift a little and knit together in something like interest but deeper. "Swell choice. Common but still just as good."

"Yeah, I guess that's why I picked it." The words are escaping past my lips before I can second think them. "Everyone will like it."

He leans forward as if to tell a secret, and his eyes blue like a clear sky connect to mine. The posture of his body is loose, like an untouched bow-string, upright but not too tense. I've always been awful at reading body language, sure I catch every little detail but I mistake one sign for another often so I can really depend on it too much. He just seems happy. Always.

"Now what did you think of the vanilla?"

Prim and Posy split it, I insisted they did. I hadn't even smelled it. My mind conjures a quick lie, briefly I feel guilty for giving a false answer to a question spun of simple curiosity. The feeling vanishes seemingly as soon as it appears, _everyone lies from time to time._

"It was great," I utter the words in seconds, I hate how my voice loses its cool composure and adopts a suspiciously cheery tone.

He gives me a disbelieving look but says no more. "I'm glad, what was Prim's favorite?" he leans back slightly, still leaning over the counter.

When he brings up the topic of my baby sister I feel the fists at my side slacken and my features relax. "Prim was a fan of the chocolate."

I had considered getting it, just so she could have some more, my intention of course I'd leave hidden. Gale wouldn't approve.

Even though I did not choose it I kept my little sister tucked in the back of my mind. She, of course, will greedily gobble up the vanilla like anyone else who takes said day off from the mines to show up. Most likely many will. The seam aren't choosy, we survive on bones stripped of meat and mint leaves, we are immune to the fist of hunger punching and twisting our insides. Extravagance, like this, is so seldom, and when it comes by the taste of real rich food crafted from fresh ingredients well, it's so heavenly it makes you want to cry.

"And your favorite?"

"Red velvet." I state simply as it was the only one I tried, and only because Prim insisted. Truth is, although I have nothing to compare it to I loved it, especially the thick cream cheese icing that topped it, I found myself eating around the frosting and saving it for last.

His lips twist up. "Quite a few girls around here favor that one," his smile fall a little, "you could order one for your wedding, I'm sure everyone would like it."

"No," I shake my head, "I'll stick with the vanilla."

"Okay, which kind of flower would you like on it?" he asks glancing up at me as he pens down 'vanilla.'

I only hesitate for a moment before I grasp a flower that sounds right. "Primroses."

"Alright," he smiles softly yet again, probably because it makes the bakery look more superior to customers. "I'll see you in two week Katniss."

I feel his eyes on transfixed on my back as I walk out.

**...**

**...**

**...**

When I get walk by the hob there's an unwanted sight, soot covered Gale sitting beside a half-pretty girl, Leevy on a busted picnic. I stalk away as quiet as a bird before he can spot me, and I desperately hope that my attempt to get away unspotted was successful. Strangely, seeing them feels like catching Prim with Rory, you want to watch but you know you shouldn't. He shouldn't do anything though, I trust him not to.

That night he tries to kiss me but I refuse, I scowl at him and shake my head. "What I can't even kiss my fiancée? Don't tell me you're getting cold feet again, Katniss."

Gale has a right to claim I'm doing it again, backing out. We've dated for six months now and he's asked my hand for marriage twice before, he thought third time was the charm, and in our case it was. I push back the urge to bring up what I saw today, I do not want to seem crazy and have him accuse of stalking him. I let my head fall into my hands. "No," I sigh, "we're getting married this time, I promised."

"Catnip," his voice lower considerably, "we can push it back if you want a few more weeks."

I know that if we were to push it back I'd forget about it, besides the sooner the better, we'll be able to merge our incomes and support all our siblings and family. That plus, the what Hazel makes from laundering and the small income from my mother makes from her job as a healer will be little more than enough for our families. Not marrying Gale would be selfish, and besides, there's worse men to marry. I just hope I won't have to take up a job in the suffocating mines with him.

Grabbing Gale by the shoulders I lean up and peck him on the lips. "No, everything is perfect."

Now if only I could soothe the worry thoughts swirling in my mind.

As I leave the next morning to go hunting just after sunrise, I am shocked to find an envelope on our ragged doorstep. We don't receive letters around here unless it's from the capital, however seldom that may be. Although this doesn't have a huge capital stamp on the seal, it's just plain and white and the front says 'Katniss' extremely neat, with an elegant curve in the 'K.' There's katniss tubers, my name sake, across the expanse filling the blank space and twirling around my name. Carefully I open it, I am careful not to rip it. My hands nearly vibrate with this nervous anticipation, oh, what could such a thing contain, it can't be some silly letter for Prim sent from Rory because it has my name on it.

I'm more than surprised when I open it to find money, I count it one by one, and it adds up to a whopping amount, quite a bit more than what Gale makes at the mines. I gape at it, very dumbly, I don't want to believe that in my hands I hold a sufficent amount of money to give Prim all that she longs for and fill my mother's apothecary cabinet which has begun to run low. I want to think that this these pieces of paper are products of my imagination and that I'm out of it. I just can't be because I know that I woke up this morning and kissed Prim's head before I dressed in the clothes I pressed and hung to dry the night before. This isn't just a dream, this is money on my doorstep and I don't know where it came from, or who the original owner was. I look back in the paper pouch for anything, and I realize that I was so caught up in the money that my eyes bypassed the slip of plain line-paper in there. When I open it I find words written delicately just like my name was. A letter. It is no longer than a paragraph, and straight to the point. It doesn't state who it was from either.

_Katniss, _

_Everything in this package belongs to you, the money is yours and you may use it however you please. You'll receive this envelope once every week until your wedding. After your wedding they will cease, however if you cancel your wedding it will not. I know you are marrying for money and I wanted to give you an alternative. _

_Warm wishes, _

_Anonymous. _

My wedding is in two weeks. One more letter will come. I feel frustrated and conflicted, someone saw right through my plan to marry and saw my true intentions, I can't even begin to fathom how or who. I know right away, that I can't show this to Gale or Prim or any family for that matter, it states what no one can see, my thoughts and how I made my decision.

If only I knew who did this, I'd return this to them in an instant. I don't many people with money to throw around, I feel my mouth dry, could it be Madge? Maybe she has a thing for Gale and wants him enough to do this. She and I are one of the last unmarried women from our class, it seems everyone wanted to settle down right away.

I head for the woods and decide to see her about it afterwards, it may be awkward since I haven't seen her since the end of school but it certainly is necessary.

My thoughts are at bay as I hunt for the an hour but I refuse to let the get in the way of sister's next meal. I move swiftly and pick off a turkey from a pack of three, the other's run off after it falls to the ground and I let them get away. I try to restrain myself I can't kill all in the woods or they won't reproduce. To my pleasure one of the snares has snapped shut around a rabbit, I collect it and push it into my game bag. I will share it with Gale's family even though I have mixed feelings about him at the moment.

Finally, I leave. After putting my bow in the tree I slip through the hole in the fence and return back to district 12. The fabric stretched across my stomach snags on the fence, it only takes a few seconds but I pull it free. As soon as I do, the normally still fence something that is very seldom and unexpected.

My heart pounds in my ears. The electric fence buzzes to life.

**...**

**...**

**...**

**So it is beginning, I'll try to be back soon, I'm getting in the habit of writing everyday and I'm trying to frequently update all my books. Also, if you read Hold Onto Me I have continued it so updates will come there as well as in my original story The Weeping Lover.**

**Thank you for all the compliments and advice on this so far, you're all definitely some very encouraging people. **

**That all, stay fabulous my people! **

**~Fly_on22**


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